When I thought it couldn’t get any worse—with all the stress and distractions I forgot about the exam. Doors close in ten. Tick tock. I drop everything and run out the door. It’s dark and dreary. Stale and deserted. Fog-filled. Thick and eerie. A graveyard of undergraduates. Fashion terrorists. Just crawled out of their beds. Eyes bloodshot. Toothpaste and drool stains. Unresponsive. Barely alive. Emotionally-detached. Unhinged. Heavily-caffeinated and sleep-deprived. I’ll blend right in.